


Memoirs Of A Madam

by TheDarkArcher



Category: Thief (Video Games)
Genre: Bloodplay, Canon-Typical Violence, Diary/Journal, Gen, Memoirs, Mild torture, Poisoning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 14:43:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4183749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkArcher/pseuds/TheDarkArcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A chapter from the Memoirs Of A Madam, an old diary penned autobiography-style by Madam Xiao Xiao herself. It's funny how this strange old book came to me here in my dingy storehouse under the Crippled Burrick. Turns out, a treasure-seeking Blossom strayed up into the attic area of the Madam's brothel one day and found the rumpled old manuscript sitting in a dusty heap on the floor. She brought it directly to me—Basso the Boxman, stating that amongst the many chapters it contained, there was one that had incriminating evidence of my blackhand operations. She then demanded that I pay her for the manuscript—or she threatened she'd take the whole thing to the City Watch. </p><p> I had a good laugh at her endeavor to frighten me, after which I promptly told her she was full of shit, and asked her to kindly leave my place of business.<br/>But she was a loud, bossy woman who claimed she was no liar as she now tended to the opium cooker in Xiao Xiao's basement, and had access to the entire brothel despite being unable to service the clients any longer. She insisted I read the manuscript and see for myself. She was dead set on not leaving without my coin in her purse.</p><p>So, of course...I had to read it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In case you were wondering, this is basically just a self-indulgent little ficlet I randomly created a few months ago. I thought it might be fun to write a story about Garrett from Xiao Xiao's view, with a bit of an introduction to it from Basso's POV, so here's my hopefully not-horribly-lame attempt at that! 
> 
> It's only meant as a bit of silly fun, so enjoy the read! My close friend and muse convinced me to post it after a good deal of nagging!  
> I take full responsibility for any errors or utter nonsense. :-D

**Year of Northcrest 829**

The memoirs of Madam Xiao Xiao.

In this fifth chapter of my memoirs, dear reader, I shall tell you a true tale in which I recall the most mysterious of events ever to occur here in my brothel, the House of Blossoms. I'll begin my narrative from the first week of the midsummer season, just before the inexplicable thefts started.

**Week 1**

 I brought in three new girls from the Glimmer Lane slums today; Cherry, Aster, and Marigold are the names they've taken, and I am very anxious to see how my clients will respond to these fresh faces and young bodies.

My brothel is still a fairly recent establishment, as I acquired the property only last year! But I have been busy woman! I know my trade well, and my reach is growing. A satisfied clientele always means more money in my purse, so I strive for utmost quality in what I offer, but I have gotten the impression of late that several of my regulars are no longer as pleased with some of my older Blossoms.

Well... Truthfully, I've noticed it for awhile now I suppose, but I was unsure of how to handle the situation. But, instead of kicking them out into the grimy streets, I've offered the two older women other work tending to the opium cooker device I've recently had installed. It's still a paying job, however it's at a fifty percent wage cut—harsh perhaps, but I cannot afford to pay them more. I'm assuredly not running a charity!

But, if I am being frank, I must say that the truly sad part of all this is that those Blossoms' replacements were not hard for me to find! Day and night you'll find girls standing out in the side alleys and dark corners, some of them shockingly young! Even I have my limits, but not so these beggar street girls. They are not hard to miss as they prance about with their scrawny shoulders bared in cheap silk gowns, their unwashed hair piled into messy heaps atop their scalps and secured with clasps made of gaudy faux flowers.

Times in the city are tough for the lower class, and I offer good work. In fact, my girls tend to express gratefulness and relief when I bring them in out of the filthy, unsafe slums where I found them.

It's a well-known fact amongst the houses of ill repute scattered throughout this city that I have always offered fair wages to my employees, and any money or trinkets given to them by their clients I allow them to keep. Unlike some of the smaller, more crudely run apartment brothels in Skinmarket, my domain is well guarded at all times, and I'm proud to say that so far, none of my girls have ever been attacked in my establishment. But still these confounded clients make requests for women younger and younger...it's exhausting at times.

They see a Petal, still very new in her training, performing some basic task at my side, and immediately they all clamor to bed her, some of them even offering to pay triple the price for my permission, but as of yet I have not been able to make myself yield to their desires.

Would it benefit me to not be so inflexible with my rules pertaining to the Petals? Perhaps, but is young, inexperienced, and frightened what these fog-skulled men really want? How long before they realize it doesn't play out in reality like it does in their heads? But...were I to consider indulging their whims, how much extra profit, I wonder, would I stand to gain from such a thing? More importantly, I suppose, would lowering my standards be worth it? I need time to think.

**Week 2.**

I have had plenty of time to mull this decision over. For days now I have been brooding on it. The brothel needs to be bringing in more coin no question about it, but at what cost am I willing to do that? I have decided it would be folly to sacrifice the safety or loyalty of my working girls simply for the capricious fantasy of a few tallowed clients!

My young girls trust me to prepare and train them for many months before they ever receive their first client, so that are confident and unafraid, they take comfort in my promises. I will not betray that trust by breaking my word and changing my policy. So, for now, I shall simply have to cut back on the opium purchases. I believe my supplier, Basso, may be cheating me anyway. I found odd bits of sand and rocks in the last batch of opium I got from him. He's been selling me two thirds actual product and one third beach soil! I'm sure he thinks I haven't noticed the lessened effect on my clients. But I will have to deal with him another time, I have far more pressing matters at the moment.

**Week 3**

Strange happenings lately, I must say. The guards are frequently reporting to me the thefts of their money-pouches while they are on patrol. I am not sure what to make of it. Normally, I'd dismiss such tales as crude, foolish attempts to coerce me into handing out double wages, but I myself am beginning to notice my valuables gradually disappearing, so I am disturbed by my men's complaints. Yesterday, a treasured figurine of mine went missing. It was a small, whimsical golden cat statue, a gift from a woman named Prudence, an overseas friend of mine, who is a successful madam herself. We have written a good many letters back and forth over the years, and I have always kept that figurine from her on my desk as a prized trinket. I must say I am both angered and saddened by it's sudden absence! I shall look into this matter at once.

**Week 4**

I have ransacked the Blossom and Petal's quarters, the kitchens, the clients—everything searching for my various missing items, but nothing has turned up! I am both frustrated and mystified, I feel as if someone is trying to make a fool of me...and I do not take kindly to such antics! Whomever is stealing from me is not a member of my staff or guest list, of that I am now certain. But I am not so easily deterred, no. I fully intend to catch this culprit when they next return.

**Week 5**

The thefts have continued, and happen now at random it would seem. However, I'm taking these acts personally, and will see to it that not another coin of mine or my employees goes astray! Lately, I've spent a good deal of time thinking up various ways to trap this clever plague of a thief, and now I've determined that in order to accomplish such a feat, I must manage to outwit them, whoever they may be.

So, I've placed a rather expensive order with an Illyrian merchant in Stonemarket today for the purchase of several large, jeweled eggs. My intent is to use them as a lure, leave them in plain sight, and wait until that ghostly blackhand notices them!

Oh yes, I believe this plan of mine will do quite nicely; I shall bait this troublesome thief when he comes to steal again from me, and I shall see him hanged for his troubles! After all, you don't get to be where I am socially and financially by running away from problems. Further, I am no simpleton, and no one to be trifled with. Any nobleman who has done business with me has learned that, and I believe it's time I taught this sneaky thief the same lesson.

But my plan will require as much luck as it will patience to bring about—I must still work out the minutiae of it all. I have so many thoughts! Perhaps I should weaponize my eggs, and instead of using them merely as a lure, I could utilize them as deadly traps! I have seen it done before—murder amongst the highborn almost always consisted of a booby-trapped treasure box or valuable trinket. I could easily do the same, I think. A poisoned needle installed on either egg maybe, or a hidden pressure-sensitive razorblade just ready to spring out and cut at the lightest of touches?

I wonder if Ector will have any suggestions for me, he's run up quite a bill on his tab for services rendered by my establishment, so I'd say he owes me a solid favor! While I'm in Stonemarket paying him a visit tomorrow, I might as well drop by Troy's local apothecary for various toxic substances. I know the pompous old fool's got them. I also happen to know that his newest assistant, Atherton, has access to poisons from the surrounding cities, plus I've been told that he moonlights over at Moira Asylum for extra coin—so he could easily procure for me something from their supply of useful substances. I would pay him well for his troubles!

**Week 6**

 Ector is currently arming my jeweled eggs. He seemed actually excited to have a project put to him, he himself selected the razor blades for me, insisting that larger was better than smaller, and that he could disguise anything on anything...etc. I think he was just relieved that I hadn't shown up with my men to forcefully collect on his long overdue tab. Of course he still refused to have any part in the poisoning of the blades, so it fell to me to painstakingly dip each one in the mixture I purchased from Troy's shop. Atherton was the one who sold it to me. He claimed this poison is potent enough to bring down even a mud ox bull! He calls it something quite odd that I cannot pronounce, let alone spell, but he said it was quite rare as it's made by carefully extracting and distilling the essences from toxic mushrooms.

Atherton's also given me the antidote for the poison, should I need it. Of course, poisons are hardly my forte, and I am not sure what to expect from this purchase, but it cost me a small fortune so it damn well better work! With what I paid that fat little Illyrian merchant for those eggs, I've already gone over my budget for this quarter.

**Week 7**

I have at last placed the bait! My shiny, sparkly, deadly little eggs are all ready to do their task... Now, all I need to do is bide my time. That sneaky blackhand will come, I feel sure of it!

**Week 8**

Still no thief. Not a tallowed thing has gone missing from my establishment! I must say my patience is thinning with all this dreadful waiting!  

**Week 9**

I have an odd feeling tonight. The moon is strangely full and eerie, and my men are restless. I've already had several of the guards dismissed from tonight's watch duty for engaging in rather destructive fisticuffs just after rounds began this morning. I am now short on patrols, and I wonder if perhaps this slackened security will coax that damned thief into making a pass for those jeweled eggs? It's been weeks since I set them out! I wonder if that prowler knows what I've done to them? No—that's surely impossible! My mind is running wild, but I must not give in to paranoia now, not while I feel so close to my goal. A good drink is what I need...one stiff brandy ought to do it. Gods, I must fight this urge to pace in my anxiety!


	2. Chapter 2

**Week** **10**

I do not even know where to begin! So much has transpired since I penned my last entry here.

But, I shall not keep you in suspense, dear reader!

As you may have gathered, my ornate egg trap was quite a success—albeit a costly one! I suppose there will have to be no extra purchases or new hires here at the brothel for awhile until I can recoup the money I've spent...

But never mind all that! What delights me to say now, is that I, Madam Xiao Xiao, have finally caught that rascally little thief who has been a scourge upon my establishment far too long!

And, by the old gods—I swear my heart has escaped my chest! You too—dear reader of these words, will come to understand the feelings I now possess once you've neared the ending of this tale.

But, I digress. Back to the story!

Everything happened just two days back. The evening of which started out like any other, with clients quickly retiring to empty suites with their companions while my men stood waiting where they'd been stationed every night for two weeks now—hidden in empty wardrobes I'd incorporated into the environment around each of the jeweled eggs.

Of course, these guards were the best among my personal security staff, I'd selected each of them specifically for their task, and I'd given them strict orders not to harm our shadowy intruder should they catch him in the act. They were to subdue and restrain him only. The rest was my job.

The truly scintillating part of what happened next is that I had the rarest of fortunes to witness the entire event from my office balcony near my chambers. Since I'd intentionally chosen to loosen security, there were no alarms, no floor traps—nothing to deter that blackhand from the glittering prizes that lay in waiting.

But the hour was quite late by the time the expected thief made it inside my establishment. Opium vapors and incense smoke hung thickly in the air as the network of pipes had been sending up steady wafts of the intoxicating essence for hours, ensuring nearly all my clients were now fast asleep on the bosoms of their female companions. The fog in the air was far more concentrated than it had been only minutes prior, however, I had not noticed as I had been at my desk, going over my ledger for the month, with my eyes glued to the papers. But when I finally did stand up with the intention of retiring, I saw the swirling, cloudy haze reaching much greater heights than it should have been.

I decided I should investigate the cause of such strangeness, and I was already headed down to the stairs when the sound of a scuffle coming from the terrace below me caught my attention. My heart leaped in my chest with anticipation then, and I began hoping beyond hope that the sound I'd just heard was heralding the presence of my ghostly thief at long last!

Gathering up my nerves, I peered cautiously the railing of my balcony and saw my security captain—a brute of a man named Winston, chasing an inky figure through the shadows. He called out to the others for assistance, and within a blink the second guard, Riley, who had been hiding in another wardrobe just a few feet away joined in the hunt as he dashed into view from the opposite direction, cutting off the fleeing intruder's escape.

In the murky light, I watched with stunned fascination as an extremely slender figure retreated back against the wall, away from my men who still advanced rapidly towards him. The intruder appeared to be clad entirely in black, although color was hard to distinguish at my distance, but what truly piqued my curiosity was the mask over the lower half of his face. He was male, I was sure of it just from the way he moved, but he was unusually petite—his head barely coming to either of my guards' shoulders! If I had to guess, I'd say he wasn't an inch beyond five foot five.

Of course his stature didn't stop him from smashing his blackjack with solid force into Winston's face when the man stepped just a foot too close to him. I could tell instantly that this lithe intruder was no mere blackhand. He was nothing like the stumbling, inept fools I'd seen captured or shot down in the streets! No, this man moved like a living shadow, stealing the essence of darkness itself as he glided away with consummate grace while Winston just stood there like an overgrown oaf, clutching his bleeding nose and swearing loudly. 

"After him, you fool!" I shrieked down at my motionless captain, anxious that the ghostly prowler who'd broken his nose not escape me this time. "If he gets away, you are all fired!" I shouted at my remaining guards for emphasis. They all started moving a little faster after that. Someone came running with a torch, and quickly illuminated the room to reveal the trespassing thief who now stood leaning against the wall only a few yards away, with one hand pressed over his stomach. He seemed to be swaying on his feet, and it was with great relief and satisfaction that I realized the poison must already be taking effect.

"Seize him!" I barked at the men, but Winston was already rushing up on the intruder—in seconds he grabbed the smaller man by the throat, and threw him savagely down onto the floor! But to my utter surprise, the masked figure sprang up from the cold marble tiles with such shocking speed and agility as he attempted a courageous second escape. But he didn't get far because luckily Otto and Vincent heard the commotion, and ran up from the basement to head him off. Within seconds that  retreating blackhand had faltered halfway in his flight, and he was hurled mercilessly against the floor once more by the burly hands of my extremely pissed off security captain.

This time he didn't move. Winston had him face down, and was pinning him there with his knee. Satisfied that our captive was no longer a threat, I descended the stairs rapidly, but approached the scene with caution. The thief in black was panting rapidly—I could hear his breaths through the thin fabric of his mask, and I could see him begin to struggle as I stepped closer. "Lay still, bitch!" There was a dull thump followed by a pained grunt as my security captain smacked the prostrate man's head ruthlessly against the marble tiles. "Did he get the egg, is he cut?" I inquired, searching around for a sign of my dazzling traps while Winston roughly seized the intruder's bracer-clad forearm and yanked his slender wrist up into the light to examine his right hand. "Yes, Madam, he is bleeding, but I don't see the egg." he informed me as I stepped up to where the thief lay pinned beneath his knee. I could see much better now in the candlelight, and I felt drawn to study the injured finger up close.

Partially covered by a supple leather glove, this thief's hand was markedly elegant, almost delicate in appearance as if it were a work of art itself. Indeed, the scarlet fluid now streaming from the deep slash across the underside of his long, slender forefinger seemed so horribly out of place on his perfect hand that I truly felt a pang of guilt for being the cause of it! But I couldn't stop looking at the wound for a good long moment. I guessed the cut had to have been through veins and clean to the bone judging by the amount of blood that was now dripping down the thief's wrist and onto the white floor. But, none of my deadly jeweled eggs were in sight, I assumed my intruder had abandoned the one he'd sliced himself on during his short-lived flight from my men. "Search the place!" I called out to the other guards. "I want those eggs accounted for—and have a care!" I added sharply. "They will kill you."

Winston was staring at me expectantly, awaiting my further instruction, but as I stood there looking at down at the bleeding, poisoned blackhand, I was suddenly at a loss for what to do. A part of me wanted to just let the injured man go free, but I knew couldn't. These thefts had to stop, and my men needed to see me handle this situation effectively, yet the thought of killing my captive now utterly repulsed me. "Put him in the cellar." I finally managed to say. "Gently." I added, as Winston raised a meaty fist, intending to hit the man's hooded head. He scowled at me, but dropped his hand. "All right, boys. Play time's over. Tie him up." Rex and Riley had rope with them, and they secured my intruder's arms quite thoroughly, but they needn't have bothered. When Winston went to haul him up, the thief collapsed unconscious against him.

Up until now, I wasn't sure of how swiftly Atherton's poison was going to take hold, or how long I had before my ethereal larcenist was dead instead of merely unconscious. I had orginally wanted to question and punish the man responsible for stealing me blind—but gods! My entire resolve had left me the instant I'd seen that petite slip of a man backing away from my guards!

"He's passed out, Madam." Winston had his brawny arm braced around the thief's gracefully slender waist to hold him up, but I could tell from the look in his eyes that what he really desired was to smash the man's lolling head open on the nearest solid object. Such a violent, twisted one, that Winston. 

"Put him in one of the cellar rooms and untie him. He'll be as gentle as a kitten now, I should think." I nodded to him while I pulled my gown closer about my shoulders and tightened my belt in anticipation of the cold damp in the cellar. "Perhaps we should notify the Watch?" Otto piped up from behind Rex as Winston started for the basement stairs with his lightweight burden slung over his shoulder. "Looks like we just bested them at their own job!"

At such a foolish statement, I rounded on the younger guard with fury in my eyes, seizing him by the collar of his uniform as I jerked him forwards. "If any one of you tallowed fogskulls breathes a single word of this to a soul, I will not only fire you, _I will ruin you_!" I snarled in his face. "My house, my intruder, my business. Am I clear?"

"Of course! Begging your pardon, Madam!" Otto blurted out, all red-faced and flustered. I relaxed my clenched fist, released his collar, and pasted a controlled smile back on my face before I glided past him to follow Winston. Down in that basement was as secure a place as any for a captive thief! Some of my more adventurous clients preferred extreme role playing environments, and the small cell-like structures built into the stone foundation had proven useful enough for such things, so I kept the place reasonably functional.

Once we'd reached the dim, dank underground, I directed my patrol leader to the area best designated for our task at hand. "Put him down on that mattress there, but stay here. You can help me interrogate him should he prove obstinate." Winston turned his head to grin wickedly at me, and I felt the faint stirrings of apprehension. He was not a gentle man of course, but that's why he's patrol lead. I needed a guardsman who was afraid of very little, and always keen on a fight to keep the others in line. Not that I'm the slightest bit afraid of handling things myself, mind you. I stand head to head with any one of my guards, and they know I do not hesitate to use my dagger.

But for now my weaponry was quite unneeded, so I stood back while my captain dumped the sleeping thief unceremoniously onto the dirty, partially molded mattress that lay in the corner of a large, open cell.

"Ya want me to make him taste his own blood?" Winston inquired of me in a tone of dark amusement, looking over at the helpless captive  on the ground. "I'll happily beat the shit out of this filthy gutter rat for you, Madam."

I tore my eyes away from the unconscious figure, and shook my head at him in reply. "I don't doubt your enthusiasm, but there's no need for that...yet. Just wake him." I indicated with a nod the bucket of rainwater right beside the door. Winston snatched the hood and mask roughly off the thief's face and neck before he gleefully emptied the bucket of dirty, ice-cold liquid over his head, laughing harshly when the man gasped and recoiled on the tattered mattress.

Now that my intruder's mask was gone, I could see that his face was younger than I expected, maybe late twenties—he could have been older I suppose, but his complexion was mostly smooth, clean-shaven and unlined. Dripping wet and ebony black, his short hair hung in clumps against his winter pale face, and I could smell the scent coming from the worn leather of his curiously-styled outfit distinctly now that it had been dampened.

"I am Madam Xiao Xiao, Thief, and this is my establishment you are trespassing in." I addressed the cornered blackhand in a hard, unforgiving voice, hoping to rattle him.  "I should like to know who I may thank for the many many robberies that I have endured this past quarter. I must say, you had me stumped for quite some time!"

My anger bristled when he didn't answer me or even acknowledge my existence. I sighed impatiently, and Winston promptly aimed a solid kick at the thief's raven head, striking a savage blow that knocked him onto his back. "Answer the Madam!!" he snarled, letting the heel of his boot press roughly into the slender man's now-exposed throat.

"Madam? She's no lady!" Our prisoner's voice broke the silence for the first time, and I relished the sound of it—low, hoarse, and coldly hostile. I frowned in mock anger at his insulting reply, although his comment hadn't fazed me in the least, I still do require a degree of respect in my own house. But Winston buried the steel tip of his boot into the man's stomach with such force that I immediately raised my hand to stop him from repeating the action.

"A name, at once! Or I will turn you immediately over to the Watch myself!" I declared unyieldingly as I stared down at the unobliging little thief expectantly.

"Garrett." he finally acquiesced, his voice a pained grunt as he clutched at his leather-cinched abdomen with those beautiful hands. "Charmed." I smirked haughtily down at him as I stood back up. "Any reason why I shouldn't kill you, Garrett?" I inquired then but he didn't respond to me, instead he seemed to have trouble focusing, he was growing more and more distracted by what appeared to be a great deal of pain in his lower abdomen. I figured that was just Atherton's concoction doing it's job.

"Garrett!" I barked, nudging his shoulder with the toe of my red silk slipper. "Are you hearing me?" Slowly, the thief raised up eyes that were pools of burnished amber surrounded by smoldering rings of kohl to hold my gaze, and glared balefully at me for a moment. I stared back, but in appraisal, not anger. Garrett had striking eyes. They weren't overly large, but they were the right shape. Almond. He didn't have an abundance of lashes either, but the ones there were surprisingly long, upswept, and obsidian to the very tips. I kept observing my captive, drinking in every detail of him with growing admiration. The seductively full, curvy quality of his mouth surprised me, given the coldness of the voice it housed! Oh, but he had cheekbones you could cut yourself on, and a nose so impossibly straight, I could not believe it! Clearly, he'd never been one for brawling! Broken, misshapen features are beyond common amongst the men in this City, so I was instantly fascinated by this man's nearly flawless face. Were it not for the deep, long  scar over his right eye, my thief would have been perfect!

"What's happening to me? What did you do?!" Garrett suddenly gasped the query at me, coughing as he doubled over in pain. "A rather dastardly thing." I smiled sinfully at him. "I've poisoned you. That jeweled egg you cut your finger on was a rather cleverly devious combination of ideas and efforts from myself and several others. It was no accident that you came across it! I fully intended to capture you, Garrett."

If he heard me, he didn't acknowledge it. The thief's dark eyes grew suddenly distant and misty, while a low, anguished moan escaped his lips. Winston laughed coarsely at that, turning to me with a pervasive smirk on his face. He sounds like one of your Blossoms, Madam. You think maybe he wants to get fucked like one too?" He paused for a moment, staring scornfully over at Garrett for a matter of seconds before he suddenly lunged down over him, turning him with rough hands until he'd forcefully pinned the writhing man on his back. "Pathetic little whelp." he drawled—a great deal of menace coloring his tones. "You want some attention?" Winston pulled a short knife from his belt, snickering  cruelly while he mercilessly slashed into the dark leather covering the thief's chest, dragging his blade upwards until it tore through belts and bindings. "No! Not the outfit!" Garrett rasped out angrily. "Don't touch my—" "Shhhh." My security captain interrupted the intruder's protests as he grabbed him by the jaw, and brushed his thumb roughly across a soft, sensuous lip. "That's a pretty mouth you got there." he purred threateningly. "Be a right shame if I had to ruin it..." Garrett jerked his head away in revulsion from the unwanted contact, but my guardsman only laughed at the futility of his action. "What's the matter, bitch?" he sneered. "Can't take a compliment?" Winston lowered his head until his mouth grazed against the thief's ear. "What if I said you've got a pretty neck, too?" he whispered coldly. "Well, I guess that'd make you too pretty then, huh? So, maybe it ought to have a few marks on it. Like this."

Garrett bit back a strangled cry of pain as my guard's blade opened a long, jagged slice down the side of his throat. It wasn't a life-threatening injury, however blood began rapidly trickling from the wound within seconds, and I could see Winston's pupils dilating with satisfaction as he surveyed his handiwork. Apparently, I'd hired a legitimate psychopath to keep charge of my security...but I hoped that for right now this was going to work in my favor. As it was, my captain didn't seem to notice that I was still in the room with him, he had eyes for his unfortunate prisoner only. I watched as his fingers became slick with red fluid when he wrapped his massive hand around Garrett's bleeding neck—keeping him pinned to the mattress while he continued to add disfiguring cuts to the leather of what must have previously been a painstakingly handcrafted that was essentially ruined now.

And, the poison was working fast, already Garrett had nearly ceased his struggling, he was visibly weak and in obvious pain. I thought he had clearly been making an impressive effort to fight the overwhelming effects of the toxins up until now, but he was at least a foot shorter and 50 pounds lighter than my patrol captain—he never stood a chance against him, or the egg, I might add!

It wasn't hard to tell from where I was observing the scene that the stony little blackhand was beginning to lose his composure beneath Winston's continued molestations. And I figured now would be all the opportunity I needed to end this, as killing my intruder or giving him over to the Watch no longer suited me. In fact, all I really wanted to do was just let him go, so I attempted to show my reluctance in harming him further. "I'm sure you are in a great deal of agony right now, Garrett." I began calmly. "The poison in your blood is lethal dose—enough to kill a man twice your size. But, I am not a cruel or unreasonable person." I pulled a small glass vial from inside my robe and held it up in the light so he could see it before I continued speaking. "I can spare you, if I wish. Truthfully, I have made you suffer only because you have caused my place of business much setback by your many thefts, and that could not be allowed to continue. However, I've no great desire to kill you, despite all the expensive trouble you've been. I'll give you this antidote, Garrett, if you can give me your word that you will not rob me again. I'd say that's a fair exchange, wouldn't you?"

I waited for answer, but there was no response so I shrugged heartlessly at him and offered my final edict. "Strong, silent type, hmm?" I laughed coldly. "Well, you can accept my offer, or you can stay here on this filthy mattress in my cellar, gasping out your last breath in agony. But, after I leave, I can't vouch for any of my captain's behaviors, and....I hear he likes to make everyone scream." I folded my arms across my chest and surveyed the prostrate intruder below my hulking guardsman with icy indifference.

"Oh, don't worry pretty boy, I'll play with you first." Winston hissed, running rough fingertips down the exhausted thief's blood-streaked throat and baring his teeth as he lowered his mouth to Garrett's ear again. "And I'll make you beg for more." He laughed darkly and paused a moment for effect before he continued his menacing monologue. "Oh hey, little bitch." he called in a taunting, sing-song voice while he slapped at Garrett's cheek until he had the fading thief's attention once more. "That's right, I'm talking to you. Hey, I hear talk that in small amounts, the same poison you've got in your blood will make you just high as a Northcrest banner! Too bad for you, I guess—you've got a lethal dose, but oh, how lucky for me...because I just want a little taste." I watched in stunned, horrified fascination while my security captain roamed a hungry, claiming trail of lips, teeth and tongue up the side of his captive's neck, utterly ignoring the man's sounds of disgusted protest as he paused over bleeding flesh from the cut he'd previously inflicted there. A few seconds passed, and Garrett moaned again. It was a cry of anything but pleasure despite the lewd grin on Winston's face when he lifted his mouth from the second mark he'd now left on the thief's porcelain skin.

"Mmmhmm. That's what I like to hear." he drawled salaciously, licking the droplets of stolen blood from his lips. "I want you to make that pretty sound for me again, you filthy little gutter whore! Yes!" With strong arms driven by an almost feral lust, my guard captain roughly flipped Garrett down onto his stomach, and pinned him bodily from behind as he began pulling the defeated intruder's outfit off, one torn piece of leather at a time. Anger and desperation colored the dark eyes my intruder aimed up at me now, but he remained quiet—instead turning that toffee-eyed stare directly on Winston for a brief moment before his head dropped limply against the mossy tiles of the cellar floor.

I couldn't tell if he was crying or if it was just from the water Winston had tossed on him, but from this angle I noticed the dark wet trails that were running from the corners of the thick kohl around his eyes. Black droplets that looked so shockingly akin to tears were slowly streaking down his pale cheeks as I stood there, waiting.

"Aw whatsa matter, sweetheart?" Winston mocked his captive with a lecherous sneer on his hard mouth. "Am I doing it wrong? Going too slow?" He ripped another strip of ruined leather from the thief's trembling body for effect.

"Let me go." Garrett finally answered as he looked up at me, a feat that he was nearly too weak to accomplish. "You'll never see me again. That's a promise."

"A wise choice. We're done here." I replied with a small smile down at him, and an odd sense of relief as I waved a curt dismissal to Winston. "Though I dare say you've disappointed my security captain." I added with a laugh. Indeed, Winston gave me an even angrier stare as he balked at my orders until I moved forward to pull him forcefully off the smaller man. "You can't be serious!" he spat at me. "A thief is never good for his word, Madam! He's lowlife criminal scum, you can't trust him!" He stomped a brutal kick down on Garrett's chest, and the sound of a rib snapping sent a strange jolt of panic through me. "Enough!" I barked sharply, arresting my captain's attention, as I raised my own blade to his chest,  and let my gaze bore into him as he paused, staring at me in surprise. "But, Mada—"

"I said we're done!" I cut his protest off brusquely. "Now, get out, or you're fired! I will handle it from here." Muttering and swearing, Winston left. But my initial, bewildering trepidation over my captive's well-being remained as I hurried to kneel beside the semi-conscious thief. I patted gently at his cheek until I saw a flicker of response in his eyes. "I'm going to empty the vial into your mouth, and you must quickly swallow it." I advised him, tipping the little glass tube until the liquid trickled down onto Garrett's tongue. He swallowed it promptly, but that seemed to sap the last of his energy and focus as there was very little response from him afterwards.

I didn't know what to do. I couldn't just dump him outside the gates in his current state—that would have been murder! But I'm no doctor! I didn't have the tools or the skills to tend the injuries my guard had inflicted on him. The deep, poisoned cut on his finger was inflamed now, and still bleeding, as was the cruel slash Winston had carved down the left side of his fair neck.

I called for one of my Petals to bring me clean linens and water, and while I waited for her, I had another guard carry Garrett to the kitchen area where I kept my opium cooker. It was quite dry and warm here, and the air was thick with the poppy vapors. If nothing else, that would both sedate him and serve as a painkiller. I spread thick blankets down on one of the nearby tables, and that's where I had Otto put Garrett.

Jasmine, one of my best girls, had been a nurse at Moira before she returned to find work where she could in the city. Luckily for me, she still had the skills to properly tend Garrett's injuries, cleaning and stitching up the one on his neck. And as I stood there watching my curious Blossoms milling around me, I realized none of them would have been in favor of Garrett's death—as it was, they were already smoothing down his hair, stroking his face and marveling at the leanly sculpted beauty of his physique.  So, combining our efforts, my girls assisted me in wrapping the thief's chest in a tight bandage to support his injured rib, and we then promptly covered him in blankets to let him sleep. I wasn't sure how long he'd be unconscious, but I was relieved when several of my Petals offered to keep watch over him until morning.

I needed sleep myself, and I retired in utter exhaustion to my bed, slumbering soundly until I was awakened just hours later by one of the young girls who'd volunteered to keep watch over Garrett. 

"Madam! Madam Xiao Xiao—he's gone!" Ruby's panicked voice filled my ear, and startled me out of my sleep. "Lily and I only left him a few minutes, just to get food, and when we came back he had just vanished! I'm so sorry!" Her terrified face hovered over mine, and I gently pushed her away as I slowly sat up. "It's all right." I whispered, a forlorn sadness creeping into my heart. "That just means he's.... He's going to be fine. Thank you for telling me, Ruby, go back to your quarters now."

After she left, I busied myself for the rest of the day trying to put that sprightly shadowstalker out of my mind, but I could not. Worry and curiosity plagued me along with a strange desire I have not felt in ages. I wanted that thief. Such a fascinating and beautiful mystery as him would be a tragedy to remain unsolved, but if there's one thing I know, it's that life is frequently tragic.

**Week 11**

I saw it the minute I opened my eyes today! My missing cat statue was sitting perched atop a rather sizable linen purse full of coins that had been carefully placed on my nightstand. I quickly hopped up to investigate, snatching my prized figurine to my chest in disbelief. That thief had surely been here, and he could have killed me easily while I slept but after all he'd endured here, I was still breathing! But why would a thief return anything of what they'd stolen? And how did Garrett know that out of everything he'd taken from me, only my golden cat was what I truly missed?

Perhaps I'll never know, but clearly, Garrett is a creature of his own rules, and I will takep this rare gesture as his way of communicating his appreciation to me for sparing his life. Something tells me that perhaps this fabulous little thief holds a deep respect for those who restrain from unnecessary violence. I must say, that while I am still utterly baffled, yet simultaneously fascinated by that man, I find myself wishing I could see him again, under different circumstances maybe...

My security captain wasn't so lucky. One of my new girls, Marigold, found him this afternoon in the pantry. She told me that when she got there, Winston was hanging from the other side of the wooden door, impaled by a jet black arrow that had gone straight through his eye and buried itself into the solid oak.

 


End file.
